


The Way That I Am

by perplexed (orphan_account)



Series: Habits AU [3]
Category: Smosh, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Porn, M/M, Morning After, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4743224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/perplexed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The next time Anthony encountered Ian was at the club again.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way That I Am

**Author's Note:**

> More angst! Not as porny as previous parts but still, enjoy!

The next time Anthony encountered Ian was at the club again. It was clear they didn’t live in the same area, and idly he sometimes found himself wondering how far Ian travelled to the club on the rare occasions he turned up. In fact, he’d been thinking about that one hook up a lot more than he wanted to after their last meeting, especially after they’d parted on bad terms. Two months passed before their paths crossed again. Anthony was beginning to think he’d totally scared Ian off, and part of him wished he’d saved the other man’s number instead of throwing it away, just so he could check that Ian was okay.

With his normal seat taken, Anthony was left to sit closer to the back of the room, where people usually congregated for public things - it was something of an unspoken rule. His chair was uncomfortable, and so was Anthony after being approached by the same couple four times even after polite declination of their invitations to join in.

The fifth time they approached was when Anthony spotted Ian, sitting on the lap of someone else around their age. He was smiling and laughing, and Anthony felt a pang of something tug at his stomach. Anger maybe, though jealousy was far more likely a proposition. Standing up with his glass of wine in hand, Anthony quickly paced over to the two of them. As he got closer he could make out the stranger’s features.

He was handsome, a little chubbier than Ian and wearing glasses. He had a well trimmed beard, and was wearing a plaid print shirt, which suited him well. Anthony was seething, for some reason he couldn’t put his finger on. It wasn’t like he _owned_ Ian, shit, they’d only hooked up twice, and yet… And yet…

As Anthony approached he saw Ian glance at him, then excuse himself and stand up. Anthony wouldn’t have blamed Ian for punching him, but thankfully the smaller man just balled his fists at his sides and glared at Anthony.

“What do you want?” Ian asked, though his voice was hesitant and nervous, unlike when he’d torn Anthony several new assholes two months previously.

Anthony didn’t know how to answer Ian. His mouth ran dry and he felt as sick as when he’d realised he’d made the other man cry. He just gestured broadly at the man sitting in the chair behind Ian and sighed quietly.

He’d been trying to clean himself up, trying desperately to stop smoking so much and drinking so much and living off dry muesli and trying to shower more often, and… And still, despite nearly succeeding at all of those things, he found himself at the club more often than not. Was he really that lonely? Did he crave attention so much, even if it was just for one night, usually?

“Well?” Ian asked. He was standing less confidently than he had when Anthony had approached, as if the other man’s very presence made him feel… Inadequate.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to…” Anthony stopped himself from saying ‘to get out of here’, somehow. Instead he gestured at the stranger again and slumped his shoulders. “Nevermind, I can see you’re busy.”

“Yeah, I am,” Ian murmured, glancing back at the man, who smiled and offered a small wave.

Defeated, Anthony slunk back to his chair only to find it taken. Drinking down his wine, he made for the bar and sat on one of the stools there, ordering a shot of something harder than wine, something that would sink into his bones and make him as drunk as possible. Downing it in one go, he then ordered a double of vodka, no ice because he wanted to feel the burn in his chest.

Five double vodkas and a break outside to smoke a joint later, and Anthony was rolling drunk and high, and ready to approach Ian again, against his more rational side which was being subdued by the alcohol and weed in his system. He strode up to Ian, who was sitting alone then, sipping a beer and looking down at the floor.

“Sup?” Anthony asked, dropping into the seat opposite Ian like he had the first time they’d met.

“Hm? Oh, it’s you,” Ian murmured, but he didn’t sound angry. He sounded sad, and if Anthony was honest it was the kind of sound he never wanted to hear again.

“Who was that guy earlier?” Anthony asked instantly. He was curious, and perhaps jealous too that someone else could make Ian laugh and smile the way he felt incapable of doing.

“Oh. Just a guy.” Ian’s replies were terse and the tension between them was palpable. Anthony swallowed.

“Didn’t look like ‘just a guy’, looked like you’d found your soulmate,” Anthony mumbled bitterly, slurring his ‘s’ sounds.

“It didn’t work out,” Ian said simply, tearing at the label on his bottle of beer in order to avoid looking at Anthony.

Anthony felt a surge of happiness, then another surge of disgust at himself for thinking that way.

“Do you wanna…?” Anthony started, but Ian finished his sentence for him.

“Get out of here? Yeah…” Ian was the first to stand up, leading Anthony to the door.

* * *

Anthony knew he was a lot rougher when he was drunk, more out of clumsiness than anything, but he hadn’t been expecting Ian to revel in it. As he nipped hard at Ian’s Adam’s apple, the man beneath him let out a guttural groan.

“Like that?” Anthony asked as he pulled back, and Ian nodded slightly. This time, when Ian wrapped his legs around Anthony’s waist and tugged him in deeper, Anthony didn’t have the heart to untangle Ian’s legs and push them back down to the bed, leaving them hanging around his hips instead.

“Touch me?” Ian asked meekly, and for once, Anthony obliged though he usually didn’t get his partners off until he’d gotten off himself, because he was selfish like that and most of them were just one-time hookups he’d never see again but Ian… Ian was different. Ian was soft, and caring, and different to all of those people who _wanted_ to be treated like that. Ian was charming, and beautiful, and he seemed intelligent too. So why, oh why, did Anthony keep on pushing him away?

A string of failed relationships had turned Anthony from a light-hearted, thoughtful man into… Whatever this was. Jealous by nature, terrified of being hurt and yet overly possessive over someone he hardly even knew. Anthony let out an audible sigh as he thought about what he’d become, his hand squeezing between him and Ian to curl around the other man’s length and stroke slowly.

“Th- Thank you,” Ian murmured against Anthony’s neck before pulling back and letting his head lay on the pillow. Anthony couldn’t deny how good looking Ian was, especially laid out like that, with his hair fanned out like a halo beneath his head, his lips red, eyes closed and cheeks pink.

‘Why am I so incapable of any kind of feelings?’ Anthony thought to himself. He knew why, deep down, he knew. Being hurt one too many times had turned him from someone who gave his heart up too easily to someone who held it under lock and key. He couldn’t take that chance again, couldn’t bear the thought of being left alone again after falling in love with someone who didn’t love him back.

When they finished up, Anthony found himself lying on his back, staring at the back of Ian’s head. Ian was lying down, with his back to Anthony, and had been silent since he’d cleaned up. Anthony took a deep breath. Cuddling couldn’t hurt, right? It couldn’t hurt him to just get to know Ian a little better, to find out a bit more about him?

Holding his arm out, Anthony cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft, but rough around the edges from the amount he’d been smoking. “C’mere.”

Ian looked over his shoulder. He was surprised that Anthony would even offer, but he wasn’t about to turn down some gentleness from the other man, no matter how unexpected it was. He turned over and shuffled closer to Anthony, curling up against his side. Anthony hesitated, then curled his arm around Ian’s waist, holding him tight. God, he hoped he wasn’t falling for him, the last thing he wanted was to get hurt again. With his other hand, Anthony gripped at Ian’s wrist and pulled the other man’s arm across his own waist. Ian’s hand rested heavy against his side, warm and comforting.

They lay in silence for a few minutes before Ian spoke up, softly whispering a, “Why tonight and not before?”

Anthony, in a bold move of drunk honesty, took a deep breath before speaking. “I just don’t want to get hurt again.”

Ian thought on that for a moment, leaning up on his elbow so he could look at Anthony. Anthony looked away, feeling like he’d spilled his guts with one simple little sentence of honesty.

“Me either,” Ian admitted. He hesitated visibly before leaning down and brushing his lips to Anthony’s. Instead of pushing him away, Anthony raised the hand that wasn’t around Ian’s waist and wound his fingers into Ian’s hair, which only served to bring him even closer.

Ian was the one who made the move to deepen the kiss, his lips parting just slightly, so he could suck Anthony’s top lip into his mouth and run his tongue over it slowly. It surprised   
Anthony a little that Ian would make the first move like that, but then he thought that perhaps Ian was just more confident in matters of the heart than he was, or something like that. Either way, Anthony found himself kissing back, tightening his fingers desperately in Ian’s hair as the sudden surge in contact made something bubble in his chest.

His heart hurt like it had daggers flowing through it, but Anthony held Ian closely, tugging him back in gently every time the other man threatened to pull away. Anthony guessed, in a fleeting thought, that the lack of tenderness in his life was coming back to bite him in the ass, because suddenly he could feel heat in his cheeks and wetness budding at the corners of his eyes.

When he finally let Ian pull away, his cheeks were wet and he was nearly sobbing, hiccoughs of sadness rising in his chest. Ian looked concerned as he raised a hand and brushed at the wetness on Anthony’s cheek, furrowing his brows together.

“What’s wrong?” Ian asked softly. “I’m not that bad a kisser,” he tried to joke, but when Anthony went to laugh a sob just rose up from his lips. Anthony lifted his arm and covered his face with his forearm, burying his eyes in the crook of his elbow.

Anthony, normally so stoic and blunt without a soft edge to him at all, felt like he was having a breakdown, and all because someone had dared to catch him off-guard and drunk enough to kiss him. He hadn’t let anyone kiss him since his ex left without another word, that summer morning where he’d been given a kiss goodbye as he went to work. When he came home, it was to a half-empty apartment and a note that just said ‘I’m sorry’.  
Ian pulled gently at Anthony’s arm. “Don’t.” Anthony finally said, barely even recognising his own voice. “I’m so dumb for crying over this stupid shit,” he thought aloud.

“What ‘stupid shit’? I bet it isn’t stupid at all…” Ian had left his hand on Anthony’s arm, and it felt like his fingertips were burning into the skin there.

“It is stupid. Just trust me.” Anthony finally pulled his arm away, sniffling loudly and wiping at his eyes furiously with his hands. “I’m sorry you have to see this.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ian’s voice was soft, and part of Anthony wished Ian had laughed at him and left instead because explaining away the tears was so much harder than dealing with the loss he might have felt.

“It just hurts so much,” Anthony managed to get out, a fresh track of tears rolling down his face.

* * *

When Anthony woke up late the next morning, closer to noon than he wanted to admit, he awoke to Ian lying next to him still. But this time, he wasn’t as pissed off as before, and the anger he did feel was at making a fool of himself the night previously.

“Morning,” Ian said tentatively, as if he were waiting for Anthony to throw him out again.

Even though he’d been rolling drunk the night before, Anthony could remember everything that transpired and how it did so. How gentle Ian had been with him, how the other had comforted him and kissed his eyelids and listened to him as he rambled about previous relationships going wrong and his insecurities.

Despite feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over him at the fact he’d spilled his guts the night before, Anthony felt no anger towards Ian at all.

“Mornin’,” Anthony finally replied, stretching as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. He averted his gaze still as he lowered his hand from his face, unable to look Ian in the face.

“Want… Want me to go?” Ian asked meekly, in contrast to how strong he’d been the night before.

“No,” Anthony found himself snapping, though not viciously. “Stay.”


End file.
